Didn't say anything.
Just watched.
Halfway through the second bowl, Emmett's shoulders dropped.
The tension that had been living there since the eviction finally letting go.
Diesel noticed.
Caught Luther's eye.
Nodded once.
The sound of spoons on bowls.
Low conversation.
Lily asking for more bread from her chair.
The refrigerator humming in the corner.
The same refrigerator that had hummed three nights ago.
But now the sound meant something different.
It meant home.
Or at least the beginning of one.
On day six, Luther drove Emmett to an address on Maple Street.
Small house, two bedrooms, porch that needed fixing but was structurally sound.
Yard with a fence that kept nothing in but marked the boundaries anyway.
A woman stood on the porch, late 40s, kind face.
Emmett's maternal aunt, Nadine Holloway.
She'd driven from Charleston the day after Luther called her.
She'd been looking for Emmett for 19 days.
Now he was standing in her driveway.
She came down the steps slowly, like she was afraid sudden movement would make him disappear.
"Emmett," she said.
"Aunt Nadine."
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then she pulled him into a hug that lasted 15 seconds and felt like it was making up for 19 days of not knowing where he was.
When she let go, her eyes were wet.
"Your mother's been asking about you," she said. "Every day. County finally let me talk to her yesterday. She knows you're safe. She knows you're with people who care about you."
Emmett's voice came out rough.
"Can I see her?"
"Next week. Doctor says she's stable enough for visits. We'll go together."
Luther stepped forward, held out his hand.
"Ms. Holloway, I'm Luther Burnham, president of the local Hells Angels chapter."
Nadine shook his hand.
Firm grip. Direct eye contact.
"I know who you are. The FBI agent called me, told me what you did, what your club did."
She paused.
"Thank you doesn't feel like enough."
"You don't owe us thanks," Luther said. "Your nephew saved my daughter's life. We're just making sure he has a safe place to land."
"The agent said you raised money."
Luther nodded, pulled an envelope from his vest, handed it to her.
"$14,800. Chapter fundraiser. Contributions from brothers in three counties. It's earmarked for Emmett's care. Housing, medical, school supplies, whatever he needs."
Nadine stared at the envelope like it was made of something fragile.
"I can't."
"It's not a loan," Luther said gently. "It's not charity. It's a debt paid. Emmett walked 6 miles to bring Lily home. This is us making sure he has a home to come back to."
Nadine's hands shook slightly as she took the envelope.
"I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll take care of him," Luther said. "That's all we need to hear."
"I will. I promise."